


Loved

by Anorkie



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Devilman Crybaby Verse, M/M, Sexual Content, There's crying and a dead body, You know like the actual show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 12:39:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13364886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anorkie/pseuds/Anorkie
Summary: He sees something that wasn't there before when he opens his eyes.Akira, complete. Akira, moving. Akira, stretching out his mushy, malformed legs as they repair themselves with sticky threads of flesh.





	Loved

“Don't do this to me.”

He is getting sick of his own voice. He pushes his vocal chords to limits that shouldn't exist, and he screams like a child denied the most basic of pleasures. There is an aching in his chest, swallowing itself like a snake without a tail, hypnotized by the jaw-slacking guilt. The scenery lacks its initial enchantment. The stars do not sing. He thinks if there were anything left, any creature at all, it would find a way to pluck its eardrums to avoid the shrill of his voice.

Until now, he thought crying was physically impossible for him and, above all, a pointless emotional outlet when he could express himself in other ways. Silence. Apathy. Violence. That was how he dealt with hard things. That was all he knew, so he swallowed that over and over again, never satisfied, always drooling for these particular methods of survival. The fact it all led to tears in the end is hysterical and well-deserved.

The humans said God created their world in seven days. Looking at it now, he supposes that could be true. If this is Earth in its rawest form, cleansed of humans and all other beings, he supposes that could be true. He wonders if the same amount of time has passed for him. He wonders how much longer God will take to strike him down for his sins. The oil-hot anticipation dribbles onto his flesh and feels like shocks to his chest, restarting his weary heart, keeping him contained in this trap he set for himself.

Akira remains still in his arms. Ryo stopped listening for a heartbeat some time ago, but he still covers the remnants of his body, cocoon-like, and ceaselessly cries into an empty sky.

“Please, don't do this to me.” He knows no one is listening, but he staggers between acceptance and denial, even now. It is impossible to seek anything but conflict within himself when he was the maker of his own demise. He deserves this pain and loneliness but _God_ he does not want it.

What he wanted was an eternity with his beloved. It was a selfish and destructive desire fueled by the bitter beat of his heart, but he wanted it nonetheless. He was greedy. Akira was the type of person to give without expecting anything in return, so Ryo took advantage. It did not please him to hurt Akira, but he knew Akira would withstand him, defend him, believe in him until his faith was nothing but a flame flickering underneath of a warding hand.

Akira was his best friend, after all.

Ryo rubs small circles into Akira's shoulders, gently grazing muscles that no longer move and skin too cold to appreciate the gesture. He carefully caresses Akira's head as he presses his lips against a pair of unfeeling ones, whispering sentimentalities that no longer matter. His wings twitch as another surge of emotion explodes behind his eyes and manifests itself as tears. He hates this, not being in control of himself. Absolutely no one can judge him but God Himself, but he still feels the need to shelter Akira's corpse with his own body. The destruction he caused is vast, but the only mistake he will admit to is the weight in his arms; the boy he destroyed. Akira's death is the one thing God has no right to judge.

“You are so loved,” Ryo mumbles against Akira's cold cheek. He hastily presses their lips back together and regrets never taking advantage of opportunities that could have made them both happy.

He does not need sleep to function anymore but, retrospectively, he enjoyed the human habit for a number of reasons: it was numbing, distracting, and separated daily anxieties into manageable chunks. It was a peaceful death every night and he yearns for the momentary relief of it. To be unaware is to be blissful. To be dead… He would know no greater peace.

He shushes Akira but supposes he actually does it to comfort himself. Akira's hair still feels soft to the touch, so Ryo allows himself to close his eyes and imagine.

He sees something that wasn't there before when he opens his eyes.

Akira, complete. Akira, moving. Akira, stretching out his mushy, malformed legs as they repair themselves with sticky threads of flesh. He convulses not unlike an octopus out of water, aimlessly searching for respite. His eyes appear to be helplessly glazed over before the foggy layers unveil themselves like extra eyelids. Ryo doesn't let go, even after Akira's eyes find him and blow up wide enough to swallow the moon.

Wordlessly, Ryo takes Akira's face in his palms and swipes his thumbs along his cheeks. Pressure blooms against his chest, and he almost brushes it off as another human emotion he has yet to experience firsthand; however, the feeling increases, and he is able to identify it as Akira's hand on his breast, tugging. Ryo leans in carefully, lips nudging his beloved’s for a moment he doesn’t deserve to exploit. Akira whines, then growls. If he was stronger, perhaps his intentions would be more clear. Maybe he would rip it off. If doing so would somehow fill the hole Ryo has burrowed into Akira's chest, he would embrace the trauma. He would encourage Akira to plunge his hand into the gore and mutilate his other breast, if it would please him to do so. He squeezes his own hands around Akira's for this reason.

“My love,” Ryo laments. His voice comes out haggard, too tightly woven in a throat burdened by grief. His weakness is still tangible, so he needs to scoop it into his hands and swallow it before it hardens. He needs Akira to see him like this.

Akira mumbles something over and over again, too weak to properly articulate. His chest rumbles into a coughing fit, and he heaves hard before sputtering, “Fu...fuck...you…”

He spits in Ryo’s face and says it again, stronger.

Ryo smashes their lips together and feels the way Akira’s entire body shudders in shock, quickly followed by a stomach-flipping repulsion that earns him a knee to the gut. His lower lip bursts blood as Akira squeezes it between his teeth. He does not flinch as his lips are mutilated by a barrage of fierce incisors, and he does not gasp when a powerful hand yanks the hair at the base of his skull, forcing him to bare his throat. There is a calculated breath teasing his Adam's apple.

Ryo’s hands flutter and blindly search for Akira’s face again, perfectly aware they may be reduced to red ribbons on their journey. Akira squeezes his breast, instigating a small noise from him. The pressure is almost pleasant.

“I love you,” Ryo whines as his hands find Akira's twitching jawline. Stinging tears bubble in his eyes and get caught in his feathery eyelashes. He realizes he wants to feel the same emotion play out on Akira’s face.

Instead, Akira snarls. He says, “I despise you.” He says, “Stop crying.”

“Did that body of yours bring you back just so you could kill me?” Ryo’s hands shake as they move along Akira’s neck, his chest, his shoulders, delighted by the new-found warmth. His entire body sighs into the heat of the other man’s body, equal parts dazzled and aware of the danger eager to strike. He knows he doesn't have much longer when he feels teeth preparing to sink into his jugular.

“I love you,” he says again, desperate. His body caves to accommodate the weight and force of Akira’s, and his wings stretch to their full size to block out the moon or anything, anything that could be watching.

“You'll be all alone,” he gasps when Akira breaches that first layer of flesh. He snatches Akira’s midsection with his legs to pull him in closer. He wants to feel everything.

Akira intends to chew his head off.

“I love you,” Ryo sobs, intent on repeating himself until his throat fills with blood and he can no longer make a sound.

His voice grows weaker, but he does not resist. Even though he still possesses enough strength, he will not fight Akira again. His stomach clenches as blood shoots up his throat and splatters into Akira's hair. The hand in his own hair finally releases its death grip and settles beside the other on his breast. Akira stops digging through Ryo’s neck to lap up the blood oozing from the hole inside of it. Ryo gurgles when he tries to speak again and makes a twisted, pained noise when he feels Akira’s probing tongue. Nails poke at the sensitive buds of his nipples.

“Do you still love me, despite the pain I'm causing you?”

Ryo licks his bloody, damaged lips and hums affirmatively. Akira makes a startled noise, but he doesn't deliver a killing blow like Ryo was expecting.

He forcefully presses himself into Ryo who convulses at the suddenness of the sensation, shuddering hard with every inch. It burns, but the pain is hysterically lulling compared to everything else. Ryo buries his face in Akira's sticky hair, allowing his lower regions to become numb but relishing the feeling of Akira's hands on him. His throat slowly stitches itself back together, just enough to speak.

“Do whatever you please,” he whispers against Akira's scalp. “I'll endure anything for you.”

He is selfish. He is selfish because he knows, no matter the result, Akira will never feel like he's truly won. Ryo makes himself moan as Akira thrusts into him faster, harder, deeper. He rolls his hips and opens his legs wider and curls his toes.

“I hate you,” Akira groans. He is hypnotized with the sensation of Ryo surrounding him, clenching down on him, making him warm. He moves because his body is still that of a demon’s. It is wild and knows exactly what it wants. Ryo kisses him again, full on the lips, and chants his name into his open, panting mouth.

His wings open slowly to reveal their terrible coupling. He wants God to see.

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhhhh I'm coping.


End file.
